Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, Blackie lived in a fine large house with a little boy and girl, named Arthur and Mabel. Of course the papa and mamma of Arthur and Mabel lived in the house too, but as the children were the ones who played with Blackie, and looked after her, giving her milk and good things to eat, it seems best to say that Blackie lived with them.
“Now it’s your turn to feed Blackie,” Mabel would call to her brother.
“All right,” Arthur would answer. “I’ll get her the milk right away.”
The children never had to be told twice to look after their pet cat, for they loved Blackie very much. Though the children’s father or mother often had to tell them twice, or perhaps even three times, to go to the store, or run on an errand, just one telling was enough when it was about Blackie.
“I certainly have a good home here,” thought the black cat, “and Arthur and Mabel are very kind to me. Yes, I certainly am a lucky cat.”
Of course Blackie did not say this out loud, for neither cats, nor dogs, nor other animals, can speak as we do. But they can make noises, such as mewing or barking, and I think that is, for them, talking in their own way, just as much as we talk in ours.
And cats and other animals think, too, I believe. Else how would they know enough to come to the same place many times to be fed, or how would they know how to find their way home when they have gone far off?
Of course cats and dogs often get lost, for they may go so far that they can not find the way back again. So you might say, from that, I suppose, that cats can’t think. But then did you never get lost? Yes, I’m sure you must have, at least once. And you can think, I know, but you could not find your way home alone.